


Waiting on Feathers

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Edgeplay, Edging, Inappropriate Use Of Feathers, M/M, touch play, written for brianna!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: “Like that?”Noctis could only hum in affirmation, knowing that words were beyond him at this point. He could only focus on what he felt, what the beautiful wetness felt like.“You ready?”They had been at this for so long, with Prompto edging him right to the point of no return and pulling back. He needed this—he needed this.Prompto doesn't understand how strong he is.





	Waiting on Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butterflybite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybite/gifts).



> Hi, everyone. This was a special request form Bri over on twitter! If you want to follow me, you can read up on it over on my twitter or tumblr.
> 
> Thank you guys!

“Prom—Prompto,” Noctis whined, voice catching in his throat. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to… Well, everything was hard.

Quite literally, _everything_.

“Please. _Please_.” Noctis wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Every moment that Prompto played with him, every touch, drove him further towards the edge he wasn’t allowed to go over.

Prompto said nothing, something that made the hair on Noctis’s arms stand at attention. The feather was light, barely touching his skin, but it was like fire. Every gentle caress, every soft, sweet touch was nothing but insanity.

It was so hard. So, so, **hard**.

Noctis was used to being in control, the prince who did everything just right. It was a mask that he had learned to use so long ago that it seemed impossible to remove. It had managed to melt into his skin, fusing with his very being. It’d become him, and he had become it.

To some, they would’ve fallen deep into the trap of self-loathing. Noctis’s knew that had things been different, had he been left to his own devices, the same would’ve happened to him. But he had gotten lucky.

So, so lucky.

Prompto was that saving grace, but also his own form of personal hell.

It was almost impossible to believe that anyone could break that wall, to cause him to come undone in such a way that made it practically impossible to know the difference between reality and fantasy. But here Prompto was, and here Noctis was enjoying every touch, every caress, every pulse of his blood underneath the skin. He could even hear it in his ears, the sound absolutely driving him mad.

This was all just… So much.

Noctis’s knew Prompto in a way that others would never imagine him. He knew what other people thought—to them, Prompto was flimsy and weak. They were partially right; Prompto would never be a super strong man, never able to bench press or lift a car like Gladio. He would never have the agility or deadly power that Ignis had. Hell, Noctis knew that Prompto would never be able to swing a sword just like he could, just like he had been taught.

But there was nothing weak about Prompto—not when he held Noctis’s heart in his hands. Not when he was able to do things that no other could.

There was a murmur, so low that it was almost impossible for Noctis to hear it. The constant thrum of his heart beating, the blood rushing through his veins nearly overpowered that murmur.

But Noctis clung to it, clung to it because it was all he had.

“Not yet.”

_Not yet._

**Not yet.**

**_Not yet._ **

The feather gently made its way down his throat, the tip of the tail making him all but sob. What would anyone else think if they could hear him making such sounds?

No—no one else was allowed to hear him make the sounds. No one else was allowed to see him so utterly broken.

Here, vulnerable like a sylleblossom at dawn, the only person Noctis wanted was Prompto.

Noctis closed his eyes to focus on the texture of the feather as it gently tickled his left nipple. He couldn’t stop himself from arching his back into the slight touch.

The moment he did so, Prompto pulled the feather back.

“Not yet, not yet.” There was a teasing note to his voice, one that only came out during moments like this. This part of Prompto? This was just for Noctis.

Only he could see it.

Only he could feel it.

“Shh. Lay back. Let me do all the work.”

Noctis let go of the breath he was holding, letting it out through a harsh stream from his nose. He could feel the sweat trailing its way down his face and chest, making its way down his neck and onto the bed below. It was hard to remain in place without moving too much, but he focused on the perfect stillness that he knew Prompto would want.

To any other, staying still would’ve been nearly impossible. It _was_ almost impossible for Noctis. All Noctis wanted to do was move, to thrust his hips forward, to grab at the feather that was teasing him and maybe even Prompto’s hand. This insanity was coming to the brink, and Noctis needed to cum.

He needed it like air in his lungs or… or…

Prompto by his side.

Still, when Prompto suggested that they play this little game, Noctis knew that the only way to win was to buy to be perfectly still.

He had to _wait_.

But waiting was always torturous—absolutely maddening, fueling a desire that made every caress of the feather drive him further and further towards bliss, but also further toward his own self-immolation.

Once he had his senses back, once the agony from his aching cock eased just enough for him to take in a gasping breath, Noctis pushed his back straight onto the bed.

Just one minute, just one second. That’s all he needed.

The temporary stay didn’t last long as Prompto slowly began to run the feather once again over his skin. He could almost feel the flush bloom across his skin where the feather touched, making its way down from his nipples towards the little tuft of hair right below his bellybutton. The feather expertly made its way further and further down, until—

Noctis’s eyes opened wide as the tip of the feather finally touch the sensitive skin of his cock. His breath caught in his throat as Prompto ripped out a keen of pure bliss. The feeling hit him in such a sudden wave that it felt almost dizzying.

“I guess you really like this?” Promptness whispered as he leaned in close, letting his breath trail over Noctis’s flushed skin. Noctis could feel the smile on his lips as he made his way down, letting every breath caress Noctis’s skin. If Noctis leaned forward, his cock would no doubt be next.

He resisted the urge, instead gripping his hands into the sheets below. They were lucky they were doing this here, in Prompto’s house, rather than at his apartment. The last thing he wanted to do was to explain any sort of sticky mess or the sounds.

Gods.

The **_sounds_**.

“Tease.”

“Oh, yeah… You know it.”

But Prompto didn’t stop with his ministrations, instead allowing the ghost of a touch to make its way further down, making Noctis _whimper_. How much more of this could he take?

“Yeah, let me hear it. Lemme hear _you_.”

There was no one there to hear, no one there to see. This was a place that was safe; Noctis could be as loud as he wanted.

It still didn’t feel quite real, and through the hazy gasps and gentle murmurs of Prompto sweet lips, Noctis tried to hold on to the little bit of sanity he had left. The feather though—that damn feather— was driving him…

“ _Gods_.”

He should’ve felt silly, knowing that such a simple thing was driving him to the point where fantasy and reality merged into something he didn’t quite understand, but Noctis nearly screamed as Prompto finally reached down between his legs. It wasn’t even a grasp, instead just up gentle palming of his cock. Still—

“Shhh. Don’t. Just focus on how it feels.”

Prompto didn’t understand how hard it was for him to oblige, for Noctis to do nothing has hand made its way up and down the length of his cock, Prompto’s fingers slowly but surely caressing the tip. He felt his eyes roll back into his head just as Prompto slid his fingers down the foreskin.

The touch of the feather disappeared for just a moment as Prompto’s other hand made its way to his lips, his thumb running over Noctis’s bottom teeth. If possible, Prompto’s other fingers tightened around his cock.

“Open your mouth.”

Noctis did as he was told, though he wished for nothing more than Prompto to return to what he’d been doing before with the feather. Or did he? At least here… at least here there was a chance of Prompto bringing him over that sweet, sweet edge.

Was almost as though not understood, and after getting his fingers wet, Prompto lifted his hand away from Noctis’s dick.

“Prom—”

“Shh. I’m not gunna leave you like this.”

Wet fingers slowly pressed into Noctis’s entrance, making him gasp as the warmth suddenly invaded him. He focused on that finger, the way it moved, the way it made him gasp for air even though his lungs were more than full.

He was drowning on land.

It seemed that was enough for Prompto. The feather began its tickle against Noctis’s cock. He could feel the wetness of Prompto’s finger, the wetness of his pre-cum dripping from the tip of the feather. He could feel everything so intensely that when Prompto kissed the skin above his belly button, Noctis _mewled_.

“Like that?”

Noctis could only hum in affirmation, knowing that words were beyond him at this point. He could only focus on what he felt, what the beautiful wetness between his legs felt like.

“You ready?”

They had been at this for so long, with Prompto edging him right to the point of no return and pulling back. He needed this—he _needed_ this.

He didn’t need much more than that to send him over the edge, the gentle swirling of the feather, the weight of Prompto’s finger twisted inside of him. Before, just when they reached this point, just as he felt like he was about to lose control, Prompto would pull out his fingers and pull the feather away, leaving Noctis open, raw, needy. He could feel his marrow singing inside of his bones, wishing for the sweet peace and bliss.

“Ple—please, pl—ease, ple—”

“I got this. I got _you_.”

“Prom—”

“Come for me, Noct. I got you. Come.”

Finally, after the minutes and minutes ticked by without comfort or release, Prompto finally said the blessed words. It was like music to Noctis’s ears, his own voice reaching that peaking crescendo just as quickly.

There was no shame, no embarrassment, no regrets. Noctis couldn’t focus on light, sound, smells—all he could concentrate on was Prompto’s fingers inside him, the feather cracking him open with an ease he had never expected.

This was why Prompto was strong. He was strong in a different way.

He made Noctis weak, made Noctis _okay_ with being weak.

Prompto brushed his lips again Noctis’s sweat-streaked forehead, running his nose down to nestle itself against Noctis’s shoulders. He had dropped the feather, but his fingers still made their slow, purposeful movement inside of Noctis.

“See? Told you.”

Noctis nuzzled his own cheek into Prompto’s hair, allowing himself to fall into the lull of Prompto’s fingers and the comfort of release.


End file.
